Dog Breath
by heart-talkin
Summary: After purchasing a dog, Neville gets more than he expected: Sirius Black, in the flesh, sort of. He's in hiding and he needs Neville’s help and the only way he can switch back from being man’s best friend and world’s worst criminal is with a kiss. Woops.
1. Preface

Summary: (AU SB/NL) After purchasing a dog, Neville gets more than he expected: Sirius Black, in the flesh, sort of. Trouble is, Black's in hiding and he needs Neville's help and the only way he can switch back and forth from being man's best friend and world's worst criminal is with a kiss. Woops, sorry Neville.

Warnings: AU, book spoilers, mild cussing, Slash, and big age differences at the start. If this bothers you then don't continue reading.

Disclaimer: My one and only disclaimer, so read carefully. I don't own anything but the plot. Sorry folks.

DOGBREATH 

PREFACE:

Out of Luck

There are important things in your life. Simple things, really. It's the stuff you knew you had to hold on to because without it buddy, you're just shit out of luck. And even at the tender age of nine, when childhood was growing, changing, morphing, to become something truly special in Neville's life, he knew he was lacking. He had the absence of courage it took to question his grandmother, a stern older woman whom he had grown to respect in a way resembling fear, about it. Really, if you wanted to bring around inquiries about your parents, who were as good as dead in her eyes, would you risk it with her temper and mood swings? Neville didn't.

He could only remember her speaking about his father, her son, only a few times in his memory, and every single time was with short gusto of sprit as she recalled his finer points in life. Only once, when she was a tad drunk, did Neville catch her whispering a fierce, "Dammit Frank," with a tear in her eye. It left him curious and strangely empty inside.

There was a hole in his life that even his Gran could not fill. He did not miss them, his parents. How could he, when he couldn't even remember them in a place that wasn't full of blank, white wash walls and the smell of antiseptics? But he knew a hole was there all the same.

He was horrid at making friends. The few he had were at best acquaintances who were far older than him. They did nothing to fill the gap in Neville's life. Far worse than that, he was also dreadful at hiding it. At times even his grandmother had noticed, and when she did she would articulate the finer reasoning of: "Get out of _my_ house and _stop_ moping around, you _silly_ boy."

It was a small blessing though, that he lived in a mostly muggle populated area (you never know who could be hiding out as wizards, though) so he didn't need to embarrass himself further by being an awful magic being as well as a human being all together.

Neville wanted a friend badly, though. Someone who would not mind if he was an alarming mess half the time, someone who could accept him and his flaws, heck, someone who might even like him for it. All of that would be perfect. But Neville was far too old for imaginary friends and he was far too shy to make real ones. He was stuck in a rut.

And, in his grandmother's mind, it made perfect sense for her to pull him out of it. One morning she plopped the local newspaper out infront of him during breakfast, managing to (thankfully) avoid knocking over his juice but failing to miss his rather large bowl of porridge. He gingerly pulled it out, licking his fingers as he looked at the front page. His grandmother was often blunt, but at seeing the headline (SQUIRRLES CAUSE DAMAGE TO SCHOOL PARKING LOT…continued on page nine…) he became confused.

"Keep reading," she instructed him without looking up from her own section of the paper.

He flipped through it, carefully scanning the titles and glancing at the pictures longer than strictly necessary, hoping to find something useful. It was not working. So he started again at the beginning and proceeded to read the whole paper at his own pace, pretending he was doing it for the sake of something to do rather than his fear of disappointing his grandmother so early in the morning.

When he had reached the comics he finally smiled. They were something he enjoyed. It didn't require tons of brain power to understand them, unlike the politics section he had just suffered through. He read the characters' dialogues, wishing on every fiber of his being that he could be in a cartoon or comic, something where the writers would (hopefully) take pity on him and at least make him the sidekick or something. It would be exciting, Neville thought, to be on the other side of the newspaper print and in those images.

Gran cleared her throat, looked pointedly up from her spectacles and said, "Keep going."

Neville flushed, and scooted the paper up closer to hide his pink face. He flipped the page, but not before pulling out the comics and folding the paper in fourths and sticking it in his back pocket. He would read them later.

Only when he had turned the page again, and noticed that his grandmother's brow had smoothed out from her impatient scowl, did he realize he was at last on the right page.

The page was mostly pictures, a collage really, featuring dogs. Big, small, hairy, bald, chubby, skinny, ferocious looking to droopy eyed, and with all the dogs combined there was every color under the rainbow available. It the middle there was the biggest picture that showed a middle aged, balding man with a smile and a shaggy blonde mutt in his lap.

Below the title boasted,

MUTTS TO PUREBREEDS, ALL LOYAL COMPANIONS!

Neville continued to read the small column squeezed on the bottom of the page about the man, Mr. Robinson and his family, who ran a shelter for all animals, but specifically dogs, who they found to be in an abundant amount. There was to be a sale, it promised, and the Robinsons would be grateful if people came down for a look, they would not be disappointed.

"There's a dog for everyone out there," claimed Mr. Robinson. "You just need to know where to look. Here is a good place to start."

Neville looked up at his grandmother while slowly piecing it together. "Gran," he said. "Do you want me to get a dog?"

"You can go after breakfast," was all she said.

One of the lucky things about this town was that in was small; at least that was Neville's opinion. He didn't like riding around in Gran's old minivan. It wouldn't be that bad, except for the color (mustard yellow) and the driver (Gran, of course, whose picture would be underneath stereotypical old people drivers in the dictionary). The exercise was nice. Being out of the stuffy house and away from his grandmother's eyes was a pleasant change. But Neville usually never had a reason to go outside. He had no friends to visit, no relatives near by, and he was too young to have a job. And now that is was summer, he didn't even have school to look forward to.

Maybe now that he was getting a dog he could get out more without feeling awkward. Run in the park or got to the pet store, or even lie out in the sun. He felt too pale.

Neville was touched that his grandmother would be so thoughtful to think about him like this. It was sometimes hard to see that there was, if fact, a grandmother squashed in there under his Gran's hard shell. He'd have to thank her later.

So he set off after cleaning up his breakfast dishes and promising his Gran he'd be back by noon at the latest. She trusted him to be capable enough to do wandless magic if he got stuck in a jam or got in trouble. Neville had no such claims. He walked, being careful not to step in anyone's yard and to stay out of the trash bins. He wanted to take a short cut, hopping fences would have helped, but he feared that even if he was able to do so he would be caught before he made it there.

There. There was the "dog farm" the "dog ranch" the "doggie shelter" the newspaper had boasted about. Neville had passed by it before when he would go to the market with Gran but he never gave it too much thought. Now he wondered.

As he stepped into the gravel road, away from the pavement he just came from, he knew he was close. Closing in, he saw the chain link fences and the huge red barn nestled around a homely house. It was hard not to hear all the noise, and harder yet was it to ignore the smell.

Oh well, thought Neville, what do I have to lose?

Neville would find out, sooner or later, how very wrong he was.


	2. Chapter 1

Summary: (AU SB/NL) After purchasing a dog, Neville gets more than he expected: Sirius Black, in the flesh, sort of. Trouble is, Black's in hiding and he needs Neville's help and the only way he can switch back and forth from being man's best friend and world's worst criminal is with a kiss. Woops, sorry Neville.

Warnings: AU, book spoilers, mild cussing, Slash, and big age differences at the start. If this bothers you then don't continue reading.

DOGBREATH 

CHAPTER ONE:

Wolf in Sheep's Clothing

The branches were thick and green, the leaves were long and soft, but all they succeeded in doing was blocking the light from the sky, so that the only way he could truly see was by looking at the ground, and scooting around on his hands and knees. It would be easier, so much quicker, if he just changed. If he just let go of everything. All the baggage in his life, the fear, the stress, his beating heart, they were all holding him here, firmly in place. But he couldn't. If he let go he would forget. His memories would disappear beneath his fur, his wet nose, his teeth and tail. No, it was harder this way, but if was a terrifying thought to let go, to loose them.

He stilled when the shrubbery shifted to his left, but if was just the wind. He exhaled through his nose and sat there, concentrating.

It had been an amazing experience, in his earlier years, when he sat there, in human form, and cheated the senses out of his beastly counter part. But now it was just in his nature, like a second skin had swallowed him up and coated his original outline. To hear, to smell, to understand on a simpler level came naturally, but when you saw things on that level, things became clearer, sharper, more focused.

That's why he felt like such coward, hiding out in the clearing behind their shed. Hearing the voices, the scream of emotions, and that feel behind them was just too painful. And he could not stand to forget, even that wasn't worth it, just to let go.

He shifted again, changing his weight to another foot, and moved the cool dirt beneath his toes. He clawed at the dirt, and finding purchase, he stood and then moved away into deeper green just before a voice called out.

"Snuffles! Snuffles, you damn dog, I swear when I find you, you'll get it. Snuffles!" Heavy breathing followed, and then a young boy pushed his way into the clearing, his red hair matted from sweat and his thick rimmed glasses sliding down his nose. He stayed, glaring and squinting into the dense green and dark. He was clenching and unclenching his hands in irritation, but the man knew that the boy wouldn't dare be violent; it would give the boy himself a heart attack just at the thought. But if he was mad enough to threaten, and to cuss at that, he might just as well come out before the kid had a panic attack of some sort.

"Yeah?"

The boy jumped, surprised, and managed to whirl around to face him, only to fall flat on his face.

The man cracked a smile, he couldn't help it. "At least you didn't scream like a girl," he commented.

"Humph," the young man managed to sound prissy, even with his face in the dirt. He wiggled his way into a sitting position and with an air of importance he declared, "Mum wants to speak to you." He paused, thinking, his eyebrows scrunched up, before he added, "And you might want to come back as Snuffles. Some muggle is out front, looking at the puppies, and Fred and George already freaked him out. And seeing as you aren't really muggle material, a dog might be better."

The man's face fell fractionally, at he thought of changing, because really, hadn't that been why he had hidden out here in the first place? He sighed, racking a hand through his hair as the boy stood up and brushed the dirt off his pants.

"Hey, Percy?"

"What?" He snapped, before seeing the man's face, he sighed, his anger dissolving at what he saw there. "What?" He tried again, this time sounding sincere.

"Can you…can you just give me a minute? Just one minute?"

Percy nodded an affirmative, his young face suddenly serious, before he scrambled away, searching for the light and the path home.

So Sirius Black stood in the clearing, again alone. He stayed, rocking on his heels, as he thought of his friends: the dead, the half alive, and the traitor. He swallowed, recalling what he had set out to do, why he had to change back to be himself again after this. He had to shed that fur, he had to remember again. Please don't let me forget, he thought desperately, and then his mind was gone.

Soft light escaped through the opening between trees, and he managed to follow the boy into the full sunlight.

"There you are," Percy sighed, and then began to clean off his glasses. "Let's go," he hooked his fingers around his collar. The dog whined, but trotted along beside him, a happy-go-lucky look on his face.

Smellsmellsmellsmell, the dog began to sniff, half way working itself into a mad frenzy with its nose in Percy's breast pocket. The dog's tail started to wag, thumping itself over and over across the red head's hips and stomach.

Friend, friend, friend, the dog huffed at Percy, and began to nudge at him. Playplayplay.

"No," said the boy firmly, as if he heard Sirius's thoughts. "Not now Snuffles. Mum needs to talk to you, remember?"

Mum, mum? The dog halted, his head half cocked in thought. Food! He suddenly understood, recalling the older plump woman, who would always offer him a treat, food too, and a home. Home! Home, home, home.

Sirius took off, surprising Percy as he headed back into the gravel, his giant paws scrambling across the rocks and dirt before he made it to the garden. He treaded softly, remembering the feeling and strong emotions of the Weasley mother, who had a fierce disliking of him when he destroyed her tulips. He nudged the door open before easing in, and snapping it closed with his tail. Proud of himself, he began to wander further it, searching for mummummum and foodfoodfoodfood and possibly playplayplay?

So it surprised him to find a boy sitting on the counter.

Sirius's hackles began to rise as a deep warning growl echoed in his chest. He did not know this boy. Why was this boy here? Where was Mum? Had this boy hurt her? His growl deepened and was pleased to smell the boy's fear.

"Snuffles!" A warm hand tightened around his collar once again and he was hauled back by an out of breath Percy. "Bad dog," he scolded, "very bad dog."

Sirius huffed and whined. Didn't he see the boy? Didn't he?

But Percy ignored him, and went straight to the boy and they started talking. The boy, whose eyes were hidden by mosey brown hair, seemed nervous. It was only then that Sirius smelt the blood on him.

"Here we are," called out Molly Weasley as she thumped out from the hallway and into the kitchen, one hand held high in triumph and the other holding a band-aid.

Mummummumumumumumumum! And Sirius bulldozed over to her, tail wagging and tongue out of his mouth. He whined for attention, shoving his head in her hands and working himself in circles around and under her. He had missed her. Where had she been? But his thoughts were forgotten when she began to rub at his head in slow, lazy circles.

"Sorry 'bout that," he heard Percy say. "Snuffles here just gets over excited when Mum's not here, she babies him a lot, see? But he is usually just a really big teddy bear."

"O-oh?" The boy managed to stutter out.

"Here Neville dear," Molly said, stepping around Sirius and up to the boy before spreading the bandage over his knee. "Those boys should really know better by now, I swear. But I'm sure they are terribly sorry for scaring you enough to cause you to fall over." Here Neville's cheeks began to warm, but she continued on, oblivious. "Before that though, did you find a dog you wanted?"

"Not yet, sorry."

"No need to be sorry," and then she laughed out a warm small chuckle that caught Sirius's attention. "Percy here will help you look around. He'll tell the twins off if they start trouble again, won't you dear? Now run along. Come on Snuffles."

Sirius's head perked up at the sound of his name and he dutifully followed Molly out of the kitchen to the upstairs bathroom. She shut the door tightly behind her then turned and sighed, her face suddenly wary and drawn.

"Change back Sirius, there's been a problem with Harry."


	3. Chapter 2

Summary: (AU SB/NL) After purchasing a dog, Neville gets more than he expected: Sirius Black, in the flesh, sort of. Trouble is, Black's in hiding and he needs Neville's help and the only way he can switch back and forth from being man's best friend and world's worst criminal is with a kiss. Woops, sorry Neville.

Warnings: AU, book spoilers, mild cussing, Slash, and big age differences at the start. If this bothers you then don't continue reading.

A/N: I had to look everywhere for the ages of the Weasley children (when Neville was nine). Here it is, if anyone is interested: Ginny is 8, Ron is 9, Fred and George are 11, Percy is 13, Charlie is16, and Bill is 18.

DOGBREATH

CHAPTER TWO:

Falling Down

When characters in fall into stories, usually mythical places filled with unknown creatures of beauty and mystery, they usually come in gracefully and with a standing purpose in mind. Neville fell face first down into his. He coughed; sputtering up dirt and grass, forever thankful that he was no longer on the gravel road, as he heard the echoing laughter behind him. How is this funny? He wondered, his knees stinging from the impact of his own fall from grace. His eyes watered and he thought it was terribly unfair. He was here to better his life, not to be laughed at. Neville moved one arm to wipe at his eyes, and the laughter increased in volume. It was only then that he noticed the mud of his sleeve. The sleeve he used to clean his face. It was covered in mud. _Mud_. Oh, joy.

A hand reached down and yanked him up, stretching out his shirt in the process. And then hands, more than two it seemed, began dusting him off.

"Terribly sorry, mate, we didn't mean to jump out like that, swear."

"It was all in fun, see, so we can't be held responsible."

"Our genes are screwy, that's what Mum says anyway."

"Wouldn't have done it if we knew you'd jump like that. I mean, really, we weren't going to _eat_ you."

"It was funny though, you must have cleared at least five feet with that jump!"

Neville finally cleared off his face with the bottom of his shirt, no longer caring what Gran would say when she found out it was all dirty, and stared at the older boys in confusion. They were mirror images, alike in every single way, and Neville could only stare in wonder.

"Are you guys--?"

"Twins?" The one of the left interrupted, a grin stretched out on his face.

"Yeah," replied the other. "We are. If we got a knut every time we were asked that- -"

"- -We'd be rich men." The other red headed twin finished.

"Knut?" Questioned Neville, confused once more. He had thought he was the only magical kid in this town. At least that's what Gran had said. He sighed slightly, upset, so much for pretending to be normal.

The twin on the right laughed, and to Neville it sounded forced. The other one joined in a second too late.

"It was a joke, see. We're like squirrels. We collect knuts… I mean _nuts._ There are good for you." He added almost defensively. The other nodded in agreement.

Neville opened his mouth, ready to explain that it was okay, he was magical as well, when one of them pointed.

"Aw," he said. He sounded genuinely upset as he continued, "We made him bleed."

"Crap," muttered his brother. "Mum's going to have kittens when she hears this. C'mon, we need to clean you up before she finds us…"

So Neville found himself being dragged across the lawn and past the fences filled with yapping puppies, into the small house he had seen earlier. They hosted him up, to his immense embarrassment, on the counter of the rather large kitchen. He wondered if the family had used magic on the house to make it seem smaller than it really was on the outside, or if they had made it seem bigger that in was on the inside.

"Where is the first-aid kit?" Wondered one of them out loud, as his copy rummaged around in the cabinets and shelves loudly.

"Dunno," answered the other one. "You'd think we'd know where it was by now, seeing as we need it all the time…"

They stilled in unison, eyes wide, at the sound of a door opening and then closing shut.

"Hide," mouthed one to the other. And then they were gone, leaving Neville all alone.

His heart pounded in his chest, and suddenly his mouth was dry. He was never all that comfortable with talking to strangers, and with the twins that had been okay, because, well, they filled the silence themselves. He wasn't needed. But now he knew he was going to face a confrontation. He was sure that if Gran had found a strange boy (yeah, he could view himself as strange) sitting in her kitchen it would be violence first and questions later.

Neville got up, hoping he could just slip out the side door unnoticed, when suddenly he felt pain. He hissed, his eyes squeezing shut in surprise. He quickly took his weight off of his left leg and shifted back on the counter. The knee he had forgotten about until know was aching and his head felt wobbly at the sight of the blood flowing down his leg and dripping until the tiled floor.

He blinked again, and suddenly bright brown eyes were infront of him. He opened his mouth to scream, but was blocked out by another's.

"Mum!" Screamed the girl, it was a girl, now Neville noticed as he swam back into focus. "Mum, we've got a bleeder!"

She turned back to him, and Neville stared. Her long red hair hung down around her face and almost succeeded in covering all the freckles there, but a few poked out on her nose. She smelled of flowers, which gave a girly contrast to her worn overalls.

"You okay?"

He nodded. What else could he do?

"One of the dogs got you?"

He shook his head. No.

She frowned, confused.

"It was the boys, wasn't it?" Another, deeper male voice came. He sighed and shut the door shut. As he came into view, Neville wondered if there was something in the water that made all the people here have red hair.

He waited, impatient and towering, his glasses glimmering in the sunlight, until Neville nodded.

"Told you," he said swiftly to the girl. Then on another, completely off topic he asked, "Have you seen Snuffles?"

"He's out back," she replied. "Hey Perce, have you seen Mum? This kid is kinda bleeding." Here she pointed, and Neville felt offended. He was sure that he was older than her, so it was unfair for her to call him 'kid'. But he didn't open his mouth to object.

"She's in the garden. The front one!" He clarified, as the girl had already taken off in the wrong direction. She turned, sprinted past Neville, and then was gone.

Neville breathed out, surprised. It seemed like all of this was going too fast. He needed to slow down. A chair scraped the tile floor as it was dragged in front of him. Then the older boy sat down primly, crossed his legs, and stuck out his hand.

"My name is Percy, my sister is Ginny," here he flicked his hand at the door she had just fled out of. "And the twins, well they are called a number of obscene things, but they prefer Fred and George."

Neville shook his hand, hoping his palms weren't sweaty.

"Mum will take care of you. She likes to care for people, so she's had lots of practice, don't worry. I'll be back. Our dog is missing. And Dad gets upset when he is gone too long." Percy paused, opened his mouth to tell him something, and then changed his mind by snapping his jaw shut.

He paused a moment longer, as if expecting a reply, and when he got none he just stood up and left. Probably to get Snuffles, Neville thought.

The next few minutes flew by, and Neville could have sworn that he'd never seen anything else more peculiar in his life.

He met the mother of all the redheads, "Call me Molly dear, no need to be so polite," and found that she was the worst at hiding her magic. At seeing his cut she had immediately pulled out her wand, ready to heal it instantly, and then caught herself, chuckling all the way. Neville realized he still hadn't told them he was a wizard. He was sure he would be terrible at it once his skills would be tested at school when he was old enough, but he still knew he was one, deep down. So he decided to keep it a secret. Just for now, at least.

Then the girl, Ginny, had a habit of staring at him, her wide brown eyes alarmingly close, before flushing and turning away when he caught her at it. He supposed he was a curiosity, but he didn't think he was unusual enough to be gawked at. Girls were weird that way, and Neville decided he was never going to figure them out.

When Mrs. Molly left (Neville could only guess she was Mrs. Robinson, seeing as the Mr. Robinson in the paper was red-headed as well) to fetch medical supplies and Ginny had slinked off to do _who_ knows what, could Neville breathe again. Really, for the first time he was glad he was an only child, being with Gran was bad enough, but at imagining having others Neville shuttered. He was quite fine, thank you. Now friends…well, a dog…that would be just fine. And that's what he had asked for, after all.

But then the door opened, and Neville's worst fear walked straight in.


	4. Chapter 3

Summary: (AU SB/NL) After purchasing a dog, Neville gets more than he expected: Sirius Black, in the flesh, sort of. Trouble is, Black's in hiding and he needs Neville's help and the only way he can switch back and forth from being man's best friend and world's worst criminal is with a kiss. Woops, sorry Neville.

Warnings: AU, book spoilers, mild cussing, Slash, and big age differences at the start. If this bothers you then don't continue reading.

A/N: The next chapter might take a while. I had the next two written out but a storm crashed my computer. Sorry in advance.

DOGBREATH 

CHAPTER THREE:

Drugged and Shoved

A mind is a precious thing, the one thing that you can decide upon for yourself, because it is only yours, and no one else's. Sure, it can control itself at times. You make impossibly crazy decisions sometimes, and you wonder why. It was your brain. You are happy, contagiously, miraculously happy, for one minute, then down trodden the next. That was your brain, sending signals and drugging you up on a dose of your own medicine. But the point is that it's yours anyway, and it should always be that way. But some people could be trapped and in one corner of the vast contours of Sirius Black's mind, he knew he should be concerned. But because of the sloppy, blank, open mind he was caged in at the moment, he felt nothing but slight confusion.

"_Change back Sirius, there's been a problem with Harry."_

"Sirius! Sirius, dear, can you hear me?"

I know Harry, his doggy mind supplied, his tail thumping on the tiles of the much too small upstairs bathroom. Harry was a baby, oh so cute and soft and smelled so good and he made the strangest noises.

His thumping tail increased its speed as Molly ran her fingers through his muzzle, his ears, and began to pull his face closer to her own.

"This is not funny," she said slowly, her teeth clinking together after each word and her lips pulling down into a scowl. "This is not funny at all, Sirius, and damn you, you're scaring me."

And she wasn't lying. Sirius could smell the raw fear on her, and although he could not interpret the rising panic in her eyes he knew that they were strange, that they were wrong. It's okay. Are you okay? Okay, alright, I'm here! Hereherehere. Sirius huffed, his nose inched closer and he licked her soft cheek. He turned and leaned of her, conveying with all his doggy might that nothing was wrong. He snorted and whined and panted and danced around, wagging his tail all the while.

"Sirius," Molly groaned, hiding her face. "Sirius, please, just _try._

But it was no use. Sirius Black was trapped, once again, but this time his prison was his mind. And down below the surface he knew this was wrong. But he couldn't figure out _why._

"Oh gosh," Molly struggled to sit upright from her slouched position on the ground by the tub. "Oh gosh," and then she was up and moving. "Arthur!"

Sirius followed at a brisk pace, overjoyed at the fact that something new and exciting and fun was going on.

"Arthur! Arthur we have an emergency!"

She tromped down the stairs, the massive dog at her heels, and was met with a kitchen full of red haired children.

"Mum! Mum are you okay?"

"What happened? You look like you've seen a ghost…"

"Was it a ghost? 'Cause that was all the twins' fault, really. I told them not to- -"

"- -Mum, sit down."

"You want tea?"

"I'll make it!"

"No, let me!"

"Sit, I'll go find dad."

"Bill, wait! I can't find the kettle- -"

"- -Ginny, go and take Snuffles out, he might need…"

"No, no Perce, and Ginny, just leave him here."

"Here's some water, Mum…"

"Neville, can you just hand me that cup…ah, thank you."

Molly sat down with a thump, her favorite kitchen chair squealing in protest, and then cradled her head, hiding behind her short curly hair. None of the children noticed when Neville seemed quite alarmed by the fact that the chair _literally_ squealed, but he did calm down fast enough.

Sirius did though. He trotted over and nudged at the boy's side, his tail still for once. Okayokayokay, he breathed out, fine that this new boy was here now that he wasn't a threat to his family anymore. Finefinefine, he licked at the boy's palm, but Neville had gone quite still. What wrong, wrong wrong? Bad dog? Sirius wondered, bad?

But the boy had flinched away. He hid behind Charlie, who was busy soothing Molly, and really, what was the matter? Sirius whimpered, his tail went between his legs, and got on his belly. Inching closer, he was amazed to find that every step he would take forward, the boy would take back.

He was just closing in, trapping the boy in the corner between the door and the counter he had been sitting on earlier, when Bill came running in, hair flying everywhere, with his father.

Arthur had a controlled expression on his face. Lips pursed, eyebrows scrunched up, he surveyed the room and all the damaged that was caused during the worry.

He moved forward, his feet making a wet plopping noise with each step, and it really said something that his wife was not in the mood to scold him for dirting the floor.

"Molly?" He questioned gently, his face melting into concern as he noticed her position. But she just sunk lower into her now silent chair. The hands covering her face began to tremble.

Sirius was torn between going to her, because really, all this fuss was just too much for him to understand, and between curing the boy of this fear too, when he noticed the boy's distracted, uneasy look was turned onto the family and not him. He did the only logical thing that came to mind: he pounced.

"Snuffles, no!"

His paws connected with the boy's shoulders, and before he could really find a good position with his hind legs, they skidded out and tumbled under him. The boy went down with a half yell, and a loud bang. Sirius was overjoyed at this new game, this was fun, this was fun! In his daze of happiness he licked at the boy's face, around the eyes and up to his hairline. The boy let out what could have been laughter , and the hands that had wound around his shoulder blades loosened their death grip. Sirius barked, and then licked again, this time coming somewhere along the lines of his chin and mouth, just before Charlie managed to get a grip on him.

When trying to remember it later, Sirius would always come up with a blue flash beneath his eyelids, an electric shock of some sort, before the change began. There was a gentle tug on the corners of his mouth, his bones, and a nudge at his limbs, his muscles rewinding themselves in a slow, lazy pattern, before something deeper inside of him exploded, speeding things up to where he had thumbs and no tail and most of his hair was on his head.

What horrified him was the boy's (Neville, his mind told him) expression. The daze of confusion and true fear, his hands on his back and them tangled on the floor with a cluster of red heads around them.

"Oh shit," whispered Ron.


	5. Chapter 4

Summary: (AU SB/NL) After purchasing a dog, Neville gets more than he expected: Sirius Black, in the flesh, sort of. Trouble is, Black's in hiding and he needs Neville's help and the only way he can switch back and forth from being man's best friend and world's worst criminal is with a kiss. Woops, sorry Neville.

Warnings: AU, book spoilers, mild cussing, Slash, and big age differences at the start. If this bothers you then don't continue reading.

A/N: I'm just getting Neville caught up. The next chapter should be _really_ informing. Stay tuned!

DOGBREATH 

CHAPTER FOUR:

My Phobia

Fear, as innocent as it may or may not seem, really is nothing at all, except fear itself. How do you differentiate the real things your instinct tells you to fear for your own good, for survival? And the unquestionable feeling in your gut when you just can't explain it? It's kept us as humans alive for as long as history unwinds itself, but it has also been the cause for deaths. Paranoia, guilt, hatred, and malice all have an underlining of fear buried deep within, just out of reach. And when Neville swallowed he tasted the thick metallic lining of rust and something else he could not explain, but he knew instantly it was fear.

Neville, in his short lifetime, had a lot to think about with fear. It lived in the corners and crevasses of the house he shared with his grandmother, it dwelled in the corners of the nothingness he saw everyday, and it hid in his mother's discarded gum wrappings she smuggled to him ever since he was five. But he knew what he feared the most. The topic that his grandmother never spoke about and the looming threat to his parents and him too, if he didn't play his cards right and ended up like them. It was death.

He tried to swallow again, but his mouth was now lined with a cottony substance form the inside, and Neville forgot how to breathe. He tried to blink, to wash away the image in front of him, but his eyes refused to move away from the figure.

"A grim…" he whispered so low that even he didn't hear himself.

The beast growled, low and threatening, his wild yellow eyes suddenly bloodshot, it's lips pulled back to reveal dangerously sharp, white teeth. Neville thought back slowly, his mind in a daze, and tried to remember that if in his studies did he ever read about a case where a grim ate the person before their untimely death.

It was massive, and if Neville wasn't so scared he might have been impressed at the size. It had thick muscles wound up and wrapped around its legs and forearms, a sure warning of its strength. Its ribs stuck out awkwardly though, in a half starved way, that even the thick amount of oil colored hair dangling everywhere could not hide it. It was a hell hound, Neville was sure.

The deep growling increased in volume, and it took a steady step toward him. Neville was sure he was going to die, and his mind screamed at him to _run, run you idiot! _But he was frozen still on the counter. _Death by Dog _his grave would read. It didn't seem as great or horrific as it would actually be. He didn't even have time to scream, and that was going to be pretty pathetic.

"Snuffles!" The cry came form no where and Percy tromped in from the outside just in time, out of breath, and latched himself onto the dog. The breast didn't even seem to notice. It began to whine and snort, wiggling and twisting at the boy. It was such a sight, to seem him transform, that Neville's mouth propped open. Its jaws were now shut, its eyes wide, and Neville could only stare at wonder at the hell-beast suddenly turned overgrown puppy. _That _was Snuffles?

Once the dog was under control, or at least it seemed so, Percy walked over. The dog now seemed sheepish, and Neville was in shock.

Percy laughed quietly, "Nice dog, huh?"

Neville chose not to answer, and began to twitch his fingers in the hole of his pocket. But before there could be tuned into an awkward silence, Mrs. Molly came back, grinning widely.

"Here we are," she called out, obviously pleased with herself as she walked over with medical supplies.

The beast raced over, and for one horrible second Neville thought it was going to attack the sweet woman, but it swooned instead. It curled to her side, winding around her like a cat would do to a person's legs, and she just patiently petted him until he calmed and a dazed, pleased look crossed its face. Its mouth hung open, and Neville managed to swallow as he counted its teeth.

"Sorry 'bout that," Percy told him, now catching on to his apparent fear. "Snuffles here just gets over excited when Mum's not here, she babies him a lot, see? But he is usually just a really big teddy bear."

"O-oh?" _Really?_

"Here Neville dear," Mrs.Molly said, applying the bandage and leaving the dog behind, a light smile on her lips. Then she spoke with a scolding affectional tone. "Those boys should really know better by now, I swear. But I'm sure they are terribly sorry for scaring you enough to cause you to fall over." Neville was sure he was blushing. The back of his neck felt hot, but he felt no need to resent that comment. "Before that though," she continued on, "did you find a dog you wanted?"

Seeing as Neville didn't even get a proper look yet he didn't feel the need to lie to please her. "Not yet, sorry."

"No need to be sorry," she laughed then, probably at his sheepish expression, and continued on good spirited. "Percy here will help you look around. He'll tell the twins off if they start trouble again, won't you dear? Now run along. Come on Snuffles."

The dog's head jerked up and it followed her faithfully. Neville tried not to flinch as it passed, then, once it was out of sight, he wondered if he was going to die after all.

Percy, after some calling and nudging, managed to get Neville outside to the dog pins. He was in no hurry to look at dogs after that monster he had just observed, and he was thinking that maybe a dog was just not right for him. The twins (Fred and George, which was which Neville did not know) came up to apologize with smiles and laughter and jabs at each other. Then they took to following him around, which made him extremely uncomfortable. But, weirdest of all, wherever he looked, more red haired people popped up.

Introductions were made, but Neville's nerves were still jittery form the grim look-alike, and there were so many people (all siblings, apparently) that they couldn't have expected him to get it all anyway.

"Let's go to the house for a drink," the tallest suggested, when Neville's lack of interest became obvious. Neville admired his ear ring; he couldn't stop staring at it. Gran would have hated it.

They all made easy small talk on the trek back to the house, and even though Neville was surrounded in a bubble of comfort, he had still worried a bigger hole in his pocket.

That's when more drama started, and Neville wasn't sure how much his nerves would take. Mrs. Molly ran down, white as a sheet, and all hell erupted in that not so tiny kitchen. Just as claustrophobia was catching up with him, he caught the dog staring at him with a wild look. He nearly jumped out of his skin when it wetted his fingers, sure it was drool from Neville looking tasty enough to eat, but it just whined and licked at him, as unsure as a new born puppy. But it was still a hell hound. And Neville still knew fear.

He tried to hide his very best, but the enormous dog trailed after him, head low and tall wagging. It did not fool Neville at all.

When a man burst it (that must be Mr. Robinson, Neville thought), he hoped the worst was over. He should have known better.

The dog leaped. Its paws clung to Neville's shoulders, and it didn't have to reach very high at all, it was so big, but the heavy weight crippled Neville, and he must have been off balance, because the next thing he knew was that they were falling. His head hit the floor with a dull ring echoing inside his skull, and he was too dazed to feel the pain. The dog began to lick at him, its heavy weight was surprisingly comforting instead of suffocating, and as Neville felt the ridiculousness of the situation he could not help but laugh. It swiped at him again with his tongue, and this time Neville was wise enough to move his head back this time, but it still caught his square on the mouth.

The dog must have been leaning more of its bulk on Neville because it was suddenly heavier. Its limbs stretched out and his thick coat of hair grew back and all Neville could do was gasp as its figures smudged and twisted, like watching chalk wash off a sidewalk, or food going down the drain in a strange spiral. And suddenly, there was a man in his lap.

Neville decided then and there that he was now officially a cat person.


	6. Chapter 5

Summary: (AU SB/NL) After purchasing a dog, Neville gets more than he expected: Sirius Black, in the flesh, sort of. Trouble is, Black's in hiding and he needs Neville's help and the only way he can switch back and forth from being man's best friend and world's worst criminal is with a kiss. Woops, sorry Neville.

Warnings: AU, book spoilers, mild cussing, Slash, and big age differences at the start. If this bothers you then don't continue reading.

A/N: This should make sense. There are little things (like the Wealeys) that you might get confused about. Don't worry. I'll make it clear soon.

DOGBREATH 

CHAPTER FIVE:

Belief of Flight

There were several things in his life that Sirius Black knew he could count on, no matter what. _There will always be dark wizards._ His own family could account to that. And it was a kind of comfort to realize that he was different, that with each dark wizard there would be a light one. _There will always be a problem, no matter what._ It was life, and Sirius supposed it would be boring otherwise, even if all the problems were usually aimed in his direction, though that was all based on view point. _There will always be guilt._ It was shameful, in his life, and with all the deep dark secrets that always popped up, even when he buried them deep, there was no way that there wouldn't be guilt. But those were the facts, and they were on the dark side, but they were stable, something to land on when he could no longer fly. This was all metaphorical, of course, even if he had once had a motorcycle that could take to the skies.

He had assumed that nothing could surprise him. He'd lost everything, and the only thing fueling him onward was his own selfish need to avenge, because he would be a coward otherwise. There was nothing to fear, he was over himself. Nothing else should have mattered.

But as he stood there, his hands shaking as he tired to pool up the water running in the faucet to wash his face, he realized that he was wrong. He was scared, one of the qualities of a true coward, and right then he truly hated himself for it.

He didn't look up at the crooked, little mirror hanging to the side of the medicine cabinet. Sirius did not think he could handle the stare down between his reflection and himself at the moment. Maybe later, though.

It was almost awkward, to be standing on just two legs again, and Sirius frowned as he remembered the conversation he had with Molly earlier.

"It was only a couple of hours, Sirius," she had promised thorough a closed door that blocked them from the chaos that was occurring in her living room. "Three, at the most." She paused then, wringing her wrists in a nervous, twitchy way, and Sirius had to remind himself that he was only a few years younger than her.

"Why?" And Sirius cringed then, hating the croak that always accompanied him after the change back form dog to man, or vise versa.

"I don't know. You've never had that much trouble changing before, right?"

"No," Sirius replied, already tired for some unknown reason. The room was spinning slightly.

"Well, it is a mystery then. And that poor boy, Neville, he's going to have to have his memory erased. I've heard it causes quite a headache."

Sirius gripped the lip of the sink as he was pulled back to the present from memory lane suddenly, his nausea rising. The change never brought him this much discomfort, even when he stayed like a dog for three days while hiding out at Moony's place, all those years ago. Water dripped form his chin and fell to the floor, sliding on his toes, as he dried off his face. The boy's image wouldn't get out of his head.

It would be a shock; Sirius wasn't stupid enough not to realize that. If he was a muggle and a dog turned into an old man, right on top of him, he would have panicked too. But the look that had passed the boy's face, the terror and surprise and just _fear_ that Sirius had hoped no one else would look at him with were there, and he couldn't help but hate himself.

"He would be around Harry's age," he mumbled to himself, counting back the years. And then a stray memory floated back, simplified with his once doggish mind.

"_Change back Sirius, there's been a problem with Harry."_

Sirius jumped slightly, shocked once again. He opened the door with more force than he should have, and it banged loudly against the wall as he raced down the steps to the first floor. It wasn't the smartest thing to do, his stomach protested with a painful jab, but his head had cleared at the thought of his god son, and he was the most important thing in his life after all.

He reached the landing with a quiet thud; he had always been light on his feet. He eased the door connecting the hallway to the living room open, expecting to see a sleeping boy surrounded by the Weasley clan, presumably talking about getting him home or about Harry. The sight that met him was another blow to his expectations.

"Hey, hey it's alright. We believe you." Charlie cooed out in a soft voice, as if speaking to a frightened, trapped animal. He was always good with that kind of thing, even though he was so young. He was the one who had found Sirius, the one who had coaxed him into the open as a dog. But instead of finding a nymph or a gnome like Sirius expected, he found the young boy, Neville, wedged behind the couch with his back to the wall. He flinched when he saw Sirius leaning over Charlie, but didn't say anything.

"Where's your mother?"

Charlie half turned, and in his crouched position he looked a bit silly. "Out front with dad," he answered with his voice stuck in that soft lull. Out of habit with speaking to Sirius himself, or the fact that he was still concerned with frightening the boy, Sirius didn't know. "Snuffles, you need to talk to them about some _stuff_, please" At the upturn of his eyebrows Sirius assumed he was talking about Harry, but he jerked his chin at the boy slightly, and Sirius knew that there was something going on.

"Alright," Sirius paused, a little unsure, before making his way to the door.

Charlie continued speaking to the boy, his voice like a quiet lullaby. "Come on, it is fine now. We won't hurt you, I promise. I bet it hurts to be stuck back there. I'll even help you out. Does that sound okay? I'm sure your leg is in a lot of pain right now. Am I right? Let me help you, please…"

Sirius paused just at the door, at a loss. "Charlie?"

"Hmm?"

"Can you…I can't really…I don't think it's wise to go…" Sirius let his sentence hang, not willing to admit his fear of going outside. Going outside would mean changing, and changing would mean having a chance of being stuck again. He did not have the strength to face that again in the same day. Thankfully, Charlie seemed to understand.

"Why don't you wait in here? They should be back soon. Mum just wanted to check on something."

'Something' was probably the magical force field. There must have been more to this than Sirius understood if Molly was freaked out enough to use it.

"Okay…"

He wandered into the kitchen, unwilling to stay in there and watch the boy's frightened face. He was not hungry, but he prowled along the cabinets anyway. Charlie's soft mumbling seemed to have no effect on getting the boy out, but it calmed Sirius a little. Harry's tiny baby face kept popping into his memory. One when he was born, James literally weeping from joy, one with him on Moony's stomach, on the couch, both dozing peacefully, one with his fist full of Lily's fire red hair, one with him on the toy broom Sirius got him, one with…

He stopped, and had to sit down; his nausea had begun to crawl up again. This time the Neville's face came up, and then the fuzzy memory of his tongue on the boy's face (which really didn't seem out of place to Sirius, he was part dog after all) and then the light, a gentle blue, before the change. He wondered if they were related at all.

"Snuffles?" Ginny shuffled into the kitchen, her dad's large rain coat hanging off her. "Snuffles, can you tell, is he out yet?" She peeked over the other door, but cringed back. Sirius guessed she saw the scene he did earlier.

Then she turned, and Sirius was attacked by the sight of unexpected tears in her eyes. "We scared him!" Even whispering, that still came out loud and she waited a minute. Nothing changed. "It was horrible, he started screaming and pleading with daddy. But it's okay now," she wiped at her eyes, and seemed surprised at the tear drops. She added in an off hand way, "He's a wizard too, so it's fine."

Before he could react, or even really register what was said, the rest of the children marched in.

Percy snorted, catching the last of her statement, "Yeah right."

Ginny seemed outraged, "What?"

He continued on, a smug look on his face for knowing something his little sister did not. "Do you really think we can let him go? He has seen Snuffles, and if he is a wizard, he'll have a real chance of knowing exactly who he is."

"Oh." Tears were back in her eyes, and Sirius sighed.

"Just how did you know he was a wizard in the first place?"

"He told me," this time Molly came in. The kitchen was now felt too crowded, but the children shuffled over to make room. "His great aunt's cousin's something or other twice removed is related to Arthur's uncle's something. I have it written down somewhere."

Sirius nodded. Anyone magical had a good chance of being related to a Weasley. Cedrella Black had married a Weasley, so he knew he was intertwined in their family tree somewhere, even if it was somewhat distant.

"Charlie told me I needed to talk to you?"

"Yes, but later dear. I think we have some more important matters first." She stood, and her children parted so she could pass.

"And Harry?"

She paused just outside the door. And for a moment all Sirius could hear was the ticking of the clock. Even Charlie was silent for now.

"He has been abused," she told him without looking up, and Sirius bolted up form his chair. It clattered to the floor. Ginny started tearing up again, but Sirius's mind was elsewhere. "We're going to go get him later. You can come, if you like."


	7. Chapter 6

Summary: (AU SB/NL) After purchasing a dog, Neville gets more than he expected: Sirius Black, in the flesh, sort of. Trouble is, Black's in hiding and he needs Neville's help and the only way he can switch back and forth from being man's best friend and world's worst criminal is with a kiss. Woops, sorry Neville.

Warnings: AU, book spoilers, mild cussing, Slash, and big age differences at the start. If this bothers you then don't continue reading.

A/N: Remember, they are only nine.

DOGBREATH 

CHAPTER SIX:

Dreams and Little Screamers

Dreams are something precious. When you step into a dream, you tread carefully, slowly, because when you slip into sleep you are able to do the impossible. You are able to leave your waking world for one that is one of your own. You are able to be free. And when you wake, it vanishes. So, take care of those few hours, because they have the power to pull you through your day. They have the power to lull you into a sense that you have control, just by taking your control away. They are your dreams, after all. And as Neville slumbered, his dream led him to an extraordinary place. _Home_.

He dream was confusing, and wound up so tight that it only revealed itself in a slow manner, which would have irritated him if he was awake. But he wasn't, so, of course, it made perfect sense.

_"Dearie, baby," his mother called out, her hair long and flowing, even though it had always been cropped short for as long as he could think back. It was an auburn color, and Neville couldn't remember what the real color was, just that this was wrong. But that was okay._

_He yearned to touch it. Was it soft? Did it have texture? But then it was all around him, as it had been all along._

_"Baby," she cooed, reaching out with her soft hands to stroke his cheek and push him closer to her chest. "Baby-boy, my darling, I've missed you so much, you know. You never visit that often."_

_He told her without words, without thinking, that Gran hated that place so much, and it was hard to sneak out. But he already knew this so, suddenly, she did too._

_"I wonder where Frankie is. Do you wonder baby-boy? You were so smart, so smart."_

_Neville could no longer feel his body, but he was there, as much a part of her as that flowing hair._

_"Gum is essential," she preached, and reached into her pockets (and she had many, so many, her coat was to the floor and was weighed down by the force of the many pockets). "Did you know that?"_

_Of course he did. It was the only present he had ever gotten from her. The only one he could remember._

_She pulled out wrappers, so many, and left them all around. They floated, and sank, and pulled at him until they were her hands, the smile on her lips, her beautiful hair. Then that was it, Neville was trash too._

_A light blue color filled his eyelids, and he accepted it, reaching with his non-hands to take a bite with his non-mouth. Blue had always been his favorite snack._

_Then her hair was back, but this time it was a coarse black, and Neville knew that this was the wrong color as well, but that someone, somewhere, might get it right someday._

_Her hands, holding his non-hands, shrank back into little paws with black fur and black nails, and little black pads. Her mouth changed into a wet nose, and she panted, laughing at her own expense._

_"Woof, woof, baby-boy, am I a good dog?"_

_The best, he told her with his non-mouth. She laughed, and her hair was back, and it was in his non-mouth, and non-nose, and non-lungs. He couldn't breathe, but that was fine. He was floating with the gum wrappers, the trash, and her hair was the fire in him, making him soar._

_"You need to sleep," she scolded, and Neville remember the smell of her: the smell of jasmine and weeds, and the thick stench of soil that had clung to her fingernails more often than not. "Go away," she barked out. "Go away and sleep. Sleep, baby-boy. But never wake when it is dark. Okay baby-boy? Okay?"_

_But she never waited for an answer. She shoved him away with amazing force, and the hair was ripped out of him, making his non-body bleed._

_Why? Why? I'm not tired. _

_But she was no longer there. It was just him and the gum wrappers, along with the pervading blue._

_He waited, clinging to the smell of jasmine and the weeds that were suddenly beneath his non-feet, his non-socks, his non-shoes. I will wait until it rains, Neville thought, remembering another time where thunderstorms made friends that everyone could play with._

_It will bring my mother back, he decided._

_All he did was wait, and that was okay, because right then Neville could not remember a time when he did otherwise._

_He forgot about the hair, and when the grass faded, he forgot about her smell. I wonder, is gum a gift to the world, he thought, or just a burden?_

_Mom would know. She always knew._

_Her hair never came back, but Neville stood with the help of his non-legs and picked dog hair off his non-shirt in the non-rain with the quiet thunder whispering overhead. _

_This is love, he thought. Then everything faded to blue._

Neville woke to screaming. The quilt under his cheek itched at him, and his right arm was numb under his weight, but he was comfortably warm. Neville stayed still for a moment, listening to the quiet intake of his breathing before the screaming started up again.

He sat up straight, which was hard to do under all the blankets, and looked around. Everything was dark. He could not see. But he could hear, so Neville listened softly, barley breathing, and waited. The hoarse screaming came softer now, almost inaudible, and stopped before Neville's sleep confused mind could point out where it came from.

"Hello?" He called out, before mentally smacking himself.

How stupid was he? Neville didn't even know where he was, just that this was _definitely_ not his own room. His bed was soft and mushy, and the one he was lying on was too big. And the quilts, the comforters that had cocooned him smelled really good, like fresh flowers and soap, where his blanket smelled like moth balls.

He must still be stuck in the Robinson house. Neville shivered. But all he could think of was that he had promised Gran that he would be home by noon.

His breathing increased in volume as he panicked. Had she contacted someone for help? Had she even noticed he was still gone? What if he would be stuck here, _forever?_

"Hello," a voice answered slowly. "Hello?"

Neville flinched.

"Hello?" The voice continued, and it sounded male, but that didn't make Neville anymore comfortable. "Hello? Anyone else in here? I'm sorry, if I scared you and all. Hello?" There was a long, awkward silence and Neville was suddenly thankful for the darkness. "Sirius?"

Neville made himself lie down slowly, to make sure the bed did not squeak. His hands had just curled over one of the quilts, the itchy one, before the light blinded him.

He blinked fast while his eyes watered away. He could just make out a tiny nightstand with a lamp on it. Its light threw shadows across the tiny room at weird angles that made it look like the ceiling went on and on into the sky. His bed was not as big as he originally thought, and in this light the carpet looked orange. As he looked to the left, he made out another bed and a boy on it.

"Hey," the boy whispered. As Neville's eyes adjusted he saw the boy reach on the nightstand for a pair of glasses.

And because it would be rude not to reply Neville whispered back. "Hey."

The boy straightened up, pushed back his own pile of quilts, and stood on the mushy orange carpet. He ran his hands through his nest of a hair, a dark black color that contrasted with his ultra white skin. He shuffled forward, and then knelt on Neville's bed.

"Mind if you scoot over? It's kind of cold."

So Neville did, without thinking.

"My name's Harry," the boy told him once he nicked one of Neville's many blankets. "What's yours?"

"Neville," he said, still whispering.

"What are you in for?" Harry asked, grinning slightly at his own private joke. "You kidnapped too?"

"Yes." Neville smiled back. It was just too ridiculous. "You witness a man turned dog turn man again?"

"You're a wizard?" Harry asked suddenly, excitedly, almost bouncing on the mattress.

"Umm…yes?"

"That's wicked," whispered the spectacled boy. "They told me I was one too. Isn't that just neat?"

"Umm," started Neville, remembering the shame that came with the lack of his magical talent.

But Harry didn't wait. His emerald green eyes sparkled with energy before he continued on. "They rescued me, the Weasleys; they're a nice family, way better than mine. And then that bloke, Sirius Black, said he knew my mum and dad, and that he was my god father. Wow, a family! And they said I never had to go live back with my aunt and uncle and Dudley, which is just fabulous!" He paused for breath, panting slightly, before his grip loosened on the blanket. "This is just too good to be true, isn't it?" Harry whispered sadly.

"Well, I think my situation is horrid," Neville said. And before he could stop himself it all burst out. "I just came here for a dog, so my Gran wouldn't think so badly of me, if that makes sense. Then this beast leaps at me, he gave me quite a headache, then he turns into a man. A man! And that's freaky, even for me. Afterwards they talked about frying my memory! It was awful, I just had to hide. But when I told them I was a wizard they stopped, which is good, I guess." Neville stopped to take a short breath. "I must have fallen asleep. Great, Gran is going to kill me."

There was a pause.

"I was scared," Harry admitted, looking Neville square in the eye after the silence that lingered ended. "I had a bad dream."

"Me too, sort of. But not exactly, not really, it's complicated."

"Yeah? What was it about?"

"My mum," Neville said, as he managed to look Harry in the eye.

"Huh? Me too."

Harry leaned over and switched off the light. "Mind if I sleep with you, just tonight? I don't want to get nightmares anymore. And you're a wizard. You must carry luck or something."

"Or something is right," whispered Neville in the dark. But he inched over anyway while Harry fetched his pillow.

He fell back asleep to Harry's soft breathing and little snores. And just like that, he had made a friend, which was easier than he had ever imagined.

In the doorway Sirius Black stood, smiling, before he shut the door.


	8. Chapter 7

Summary: (AU SB/NL) After purchasing a dog, Neville gets more than he expected: Sirius Black, in the flesh, sort of. Trouble is, Black's in hiding and he needs Neville's help and the only way he can switch back and forth from being man's best friend and world's worst criminal is with a kiss. Woops, sorry Neville.

Warnings: AU, book spoilers, mild cussing, Slash, and big age differences at the start. If this bothers you then don't continue reading.

DOGBREATH 

CHAPTER SEVEN:

A Bigger Piece

Emotions are the swirls of fragments that typically make up your whole life. They are beautiful, scary, and most definitely heart pounding. The sweaty palms, the shaking body, the pulsing forehead. Or the light feet, free bound body. Emotions are tricky little suckers. But when you are Sirius Black, an escaped convict of the place known for sucking away all the good emotions, you tend to have them broken and bruised a bit. He found it harder to smile, harder to love, harder to just let go and walk without finding his shoulders hunched over and his fingers twitching for his busted wand. But he managed.

One of the plus sides though, the silver lining, was that his infamous temper had all but disappeared. Until now, that is.

"You think _I_touched him?" Petunia Dursley spat out, her nose twitched in disgust at the very idea. Her perfectly plucked eyebrows pulled together and her lips rose over her teeth, making her look tremendously pompous, but Sirius couldn't help but take in every detail of her and her relatives.

The portly husband and son were lards, where he was sitting here, skin and bones. The fine attire they clothed themselves in. The clean bodies, the manicures and the hair cuts and the perfumes, colognes, lotions, skin care products…they disgusted him. The way they could just walk, no _parade, _themselves around in when his godson was so unkempt and scared. The nerve, these people had.

"Someone must have," Arthur said not so calmly, his own hands twitching, but he stayed seated. From his corner in the shadows, Sirius ground his teeth together, imagining them lengthening into canines, so he could just tear at something.

"We found him that way! How many times--? For God's sake man, who do you think we are?! We clothed that brat, that boy, for years! Why take away our good work now?"

"Good point, dear," Petunia said lovingly after her spouse was done and was left panting and purple.

Now Sirius only had eyes for her. How unlike Lily she was. How little good he could see in her, how little sympathy he had left for the likes of her. Now sitting here, in her house, in her realm, he felt drawn to destroy it. To see how she would have managed, if her life went up in flames, would bring him a sick joy. The anger inside him gathered, but it was slow, like fire licking around, touching and moving, but not roaring yet. He sat, seething, smoking; the feeling of anger was almost a new concept. He hadn't felt it in so long. He hadn't felt anything this strong for quite a while.

"Found?" Arthur scooted forward on the couch, causing the son to flinch lightly, and Sirius wondered how many therapy sessions it would take to help him deal with this fiasco.

"Well…yeah," Petunia said slowly. "We were out for the day, the three of us, to the social party held at Herb's." She paused, thinking, actually working her brain. Sirius seethed louder. "We arrived at seven o'clock sharp, as per instructions to the invitation. We had to leave early though; Dudley had practice the next day."

Her son's eyes got wide, quick. It was obvious he did not like his personal information shared so freely among strangers, especially strangers who had the power to blow things up, the power to change. But his mother had a far away look in her eyes, and Sirius moved a little closer, right beside the closed blinds.

"We came home, and it was quiet. That was not unusual."

Not unusual, wondered Sirius, what nine year old keeps quiet?

"He, Harry, he was supposed to be cleaning the attic. He had missed some spots yesterday. I told him to fix it."

The anger bubbled up again, at her casual tone. How could she not see that was wrong? Leaving a child alone when they partied, having him clean and serve, and then _finding_ him beaten? She seemed so unaffected, so inhuman, so robotic.

"I found the lad, asleep in his bed," Dursley said, ringing his hands. His eyes darted here and there, never finding a place to stick to. "I thought he was skipping his duties, so I shook him, to wake him. That's the only hand I laid on him, I swear it!"

"Are you sure? Are you a hundred percent sure that you are not lying?" Asked Arthur. He shifted again, this time so that he was almost on his feet. "I have ways, methods, to make sure you are telling the truth. I can make you." He paused then, letting his words sink in. "I just do not want to."

"Ha!" Roared Dursley, his face a bright purple once again. "Like you would even dare to try! I would have the authorities on you in a matter of minutes! And that loony, that Dumble-man-what's his face, he gave us authority. All you crazies do whatever he says. You all worship him!"

"I don't."

The anger, the sense of power that held up Dursley popped, and he sank back into his chair as he got an eyeful of Sirius. The long hair, tied loose at his neck, the flowing robes, the clunky boots, his weathered face and yellowing teeth.

Sirius moved closer, letting his own anger fuel him. "I have guardianship over Harry. That was the deal, before Lily and James were murdered. I don't give a _rat's ass_," he hissed out, "what _anyone _says now. He is not staying with you anymore. _Never again. _Am I being clear?_"_

Arthur grabbed at his shoulder as he passed him and leveled him with a look, "Sirius."

Sirius ground his teeth together. "I will take him, if I have to. With or without your help, Arthur, I'll do it. We can manage."

"I'm not asking you to, we will help you. I knew what we got in to when we took you in," he sighed wearily, "I knew this, or something like it, would happen someday. You can't be separated."

Sirius smiled, grimly, and then looked at the Dursley family. They all shrank back. The anger hissed at him, but he just walked calmly past, knocking over a vase on the side table on his way to Molly, and the cupboard under the stairs.

"You ready to go?" He croaked out. Now that he was out of hearing range, he let his voice go back to normal, and it was used out.

"Ready," Molly said, pulling up her skirts, and levitating a small suitcase in the air. A youth walked out, his hair unruly, his eyes a bright green. He smiled, a tiny smile, but it broke Sirius' heart. The anger vanished.

Then he saw the bruises.

By the time Arthur hauled him into the garage, Sirius was sure he had destroyed a good portion of the house. Wandless magic coursed through his veins, and he was desperate for something. He licked his dry lips, "Sorry,"

"No you're not," Arthur murmured, but he smiled.

"You can erase their memories, I'm sure."

"No. They need to know that we took him. They need to know that we are desperate. Dumbledore will be furious."

"I don't think they will tell," Sirius thought aloud, "I don't think they minded, much. It might be relief. They can go back to their simple minded lives."

Arthur began cleaning his glasses off with a corner of his shirt. "That's pretty sad, don't you think?"

"I can think of worse things."

Molly walked in then, and shut the door tightly behind them, her face was furious.

"The nerve," she hissed, when they were all in the car. Arthur ducked his head in shame, but all Sirius could do was smile. "The nerve, you boys, and then leaving me to clean up the mess you left was just horrible!"

"That was magic?" Whispered Harry, clutching at his suitcase, smiling wide enough that Sirius guessed it was painful. He wondered how Molly convinced the boy to tag along. It probably didn't take much.

"Well, yeah," he said, floating on happiness, another strange emotion. "It was no big deal."

"It was to me," Harry said, "It was the most anyone has _ever_ done for me."

"Get used to it, kid. We're a strange type of folk, us magic types."


	9. Chapter 8

Summary: (AU SB/NL) After purchasing a dog, Neville gets more than he expected: Sirius Black, in the flesh, sort of. Trouble is, Black's in hiding and he needs Neville's help and the only way he can switch back and forth from being man's best friend and world's worst criminal is with a kiss. Woops, sorry Neville.

Warnings: AU, book spoilers, mild cussing, Slash, and big age differences at the start. If this bothers you then don't continue reading.

A/N: Let's do the math. If, in the books, Sirius went to Azkaban when Harry was one, and came out when he was thirteen, then he was in there for twelve years. In my story Harry's nine, so that is eight years. But Sirius had already stayed with the Weasley family for about a year, so that is seven years. If that confuses you then it's not a big deal. Don't worry about it.

DOGBREATH 

CHAPTER EIGHT:

Shocking Breakthroughs

There are a million ways to be held captive. You could be a captive audience, watching your eldest cousin do a ballet piece while wishing you could be elsewhere. She never looked good in a tutu anyway. You could be held at gun point at a supermarket while the gunman orders around the cashier to give him the money while you sweat out bullets of your own. You were just here to get milk, not to die. There are a million scenarios, but Neville never imagined that something so simple, something so fragile, could hold him spell bound. But there it was. Neville was held captive not by guilt or people or the sense of duty, he was held only by words.

"He was his best friend, one of them anyway, they were all so close. But the thing is that he died along with Lily, your mother Harry, because they loved you so much." Molly paused to rub at her eyes, even though they were dry. Harry quivered beside him, and Neville wondered if it was because of the emotion, or because of all that nervous energy he had stored up.

"The scheme was so horrible. No one ever guessed that it was little Peter Pettigrew's doing that finished them off."

"Dark magic changes everyone," Sirius said in a quiet, deep voice, and Neville found himself scooting closer to Harry.

"They locked up Sirius here, because the poor bloke was the only obvious choice. He chased Peter down, threatened him, he got him at wand point actually. I heard it was quite the show."

"Not really."

"Shhh," hushed Ginny, pulling her legs closer to herself. "Let Mum tell the story. You didn't want to."

Who would want to tell the story of death and despair? Neville the coward was having a hard time listening, let alone believing, but he just couldn't walk away. The tale was just so powerful. Even told in a cozy living room surrounded by people, simplified so the children could understand, it was still striking. Neville stayed seated on the couch.

"Peter escaped, changing in to a rat, just at the last minute. Sirius was captured, and he spent seven awful years in Azkaban."

"Rat?" asked Neville, just as Harry questioned, "Azkaban? I've never heard that word before."

"He was, is, an animagus. He changes to a rat, like Sirius can be a dog." Fred said, and then George shivered. "Azkaban is a terrifying place. It's a wizard prison where the guards suck out all the good from a person, leaving them a hollow being."

"Ah," Harry said, nodding. Then he turned to Sirius, "Neville told me you could turn into a dog. Can you show me, after Mrs. Molly is done?"

"Hollow being…" whispered Neville. He took a quick glance at Sirius.

"Sirius was lucky enough to escape, so the effects of Azkaban were not fatal," Molly assured them. "It was the dog that saved him."

"I left, because it was…it was just time, I guess. I was needed here or with you, Harry, or whatever. I just knew," he said, his fingers playing with the ends of his hair. "I don't know how I managed. I just had a feeling."

"You were lucky to find us," Percy sneered. "You'd be dead otherwise."

"I'm sure I would be," Sirius grinned, a slow, mocking smile.

"Can you show me?" Harry repeated, overly hopeful.

"Well…sure, why not?"

"Does it hurt?"

Everyone turned his head to look at him, and Neville felt himself blush. He should have kept his mouth shut.

"Nah," Sirius breathed out, at ease on the floor beside Harry. The tension that grew around him had disappeared since they had stopped talking about his past, Neville noticed. "I just loose myself for a while."

"Cool," Harry whispered.

Not cool, thought Neville. He shivered, and was once again reminded of where he was. To be lost was not a pleasant thing. And to loose yourself, well, that would be terrifying for him. How would he find himself again? Could he? If Sirius could, then maybe he had a chance, but it wasn't likely.

"I wish I could change!" Ron said suddenly, "I could be something strong, like a tiger, or an ox!"

"How about a bird, or a shark, or an alligator?" asked Harry, excited as well

"No, get that idea out of your head boys," Molly scolded. "It takes a lot of time and energy, not to mention it is dangerous. When you are older, _much older_, then maybe we'll talk about it. Maybe."

"Aww, Mum," whined out Ron, while Harry pleaded, "Please, Mrs. Molly."

Sirius chuckled, and even though his laughter was deep, it did not give Neville the chills. He managed to sneak a peak at him, through the fringe of his hair. The small grin almost looked out of place on his mouth. The deep frown lines had to be shoved away, so that his lips could move upward. It wasn't a forced smile, but it was an unusual action on this man's face.

"Ah, Neville?"

Don't flinch, don't flinch, Neville told himself as he thought of home and Gran. He'd be home soon enough, hopefully.

"You understand why we had to keep you now, right?" Sirius didn't move from his lounged position by Harry's knees on the floor, but he looked him straight in the eye. "We couldn't have you telling anyone, and Molly was so sure that you would recognize me from the news, even though I've been out for about a year." He sighed, "We can not take risks, but I hate the idea of keeping anyone locked up."

What was he supposed to say to that? He couldn't unclench his hands, they were shaking so badly. Did this mean they were going to let him go? Could he go home? He looked at Harry, who was laughing so hard it looked like he was going to fall over, Ron was at his other side and he was already doubled over.

"I…"

Did he want to go? The sudden thought struck him dumb, and all he could do was stare. This family was freaky, no doubt about it. But it had love, and they were all so close. Nothing like he had experienced with Gran. And Neville had finally made a friend, a true friend. And they all seemed to care about him, even if only distantly. It was a nice feeling, something Neville was not used to. Did he really want to leave this all behind?

"I…"

"We won't keep you here any longer. You are free to go."

Neville turned back to look at Sirius, but his eyes were closed.

"Just do me a favor, will you? Tell me if you plan on outing us. Give us a head start, yeah?" Sirius sighed, and looked up.

And suddenly they were face to face. With Ginny on one side, then Harry and Ron on his other on the couch, Neville had scooted farther down. And with George and Fred, and then Percy on Sirius' other side, on the ground, he had moved closer to Harry, making the space between them smaller. In the already cramped room, Neville felt claustrophobic, but it a good way, if that made any sense.

"I…" Neville tried, again, not sure what to say.

Then a loud noise erupted to his right and a giant force shook the house. Causing Ginny to squeal and for him and Sirius to bump noses rather painfully.

"What the hell?" Yelled Bill, the only one of them who had managed to stay upright.

"Where is he!?" Screeched a voice, and Neville paled. "Where is he!?_ Where is my grandson!?_"

The house shook again then trembled, and bits of the ceiling fell down, making Percy start to cough loudly.

"_I know_ he's here!" Gran's voice rang out, loud and fierce, a sure sign her temper had flown out the window. "Neville, _Neville! _Answer me!"

"Oh goodness," whispered Molly, she shot Neville a quick look. "You better stop her."

But as soon as Neville managed to stand up, the house shifted and moved in quick, violent vibrations, causing him to topple over once again. This time he landed right on top of Sirius.

So, dear, old Mrs. Longbottom walked into the sight of her young grandson knocking into a man, their mouths brushing together slightly before he fell on top of him. The shock knocked her unconscious.


	10. Chapter 9

Summary: (AU SB/NL) After purchasing a dog, Neville gets more than he expected: Sirius Black, in the flesh, sort of. Trouble is, Black's in hiding and he needs Neville's help and the only way he can switch back and forth from being man's best friend and world's worst criminal is with a kiss. Woops, sorry Neville.

Warnings: AU, book spoilers, mild cussing, Slash, and big age differences at the start. If this bothers you then don't continue reading.

DOGBREATH

CHAPTER NINE:

Wise Men and Fools

There are tons of people in the world. Sweet ones, sour, grumpy ones, tired ones, dark spirited ones, kind hearted ones, and the list goes on. But the fact is that you will most definitely find one of these people that will tick you off like nothing else. And usually you don't have to look very far. You might try to avoid these people, but they have the amazing power to pop out when you least expect it, so be careful. But you need to remember, above all else, that they are just human as well. This advice was not helping Snuffles out in the slightest.

He flinched slightly, and moved away as Old Woman, as he dubbed her, swung her legs off the couch to sit up.

"Neville, son, could you grab me a glass of something? I'm parched; you know how fainting spells tire me so. I can't believe one just sprung on me. How peculiar."

"Yes Gran."

How peculiar indeed. Snuffles did not like her, not one bit. He huffed, thinking smellsmellsmell and badbadbad, and even though his sensitive nose could pick out each individual scent, he chose not to dwell on it too long. Old Woman was very talkative; her jaw was busy working itself in a mad frenzy, nagging all the way. She was very angular, very hard, and he did not like the way she spoke down to her grandson. She was Bad. And he Did Not Like Her.

Now that Old Woman was sitting up, she kept glancing around, evaluating her new surroundings. She barley spared Snuffles a glance.

"Here Gran," Neville placed a glass of amber liquid infront of her, and Snuffles wanted to run to him, to hide his head in his chest, and get rid of all her nasty smells, but he was too close to her.

"Anything else we can get you, Miss Longbottom?" Molly asked, wiping her hands over her long skirt.

"It is Mrs. Not Miss. My husband may be deceased but let me assure you, I still wear my ring, and our vows did not die with his body."

"I thought it was 'Till death do us part'," Ron whispered. Harry shrugged.

"But another blanket would be fine," Old Woman continued, "I am a bit chilled."

Neville hopped up again, "I'll get it Mrs. Molly. Just tell me where it is."

"They are in the cupboard, dear, it's the one in the hallway. You can pick out the one you think would be best, I have a lot." She then turned back to Old Woman and said with a grin, "I knit."

Snuffles snorted. Like that would create a bond between them? He was sure that Old Woman probably never worked a job, let alone a hobby, that didn't have magic in it. Molly was trying too hard. He turned to followed Neville, wanting to get away so he wouldn't have to smell her any longer, but Neville was already coming back.

He charged up to the boy, whining helphelphelp and smellsmellsmellsmell as he eased his front onto Neville's shirt, wagging his tail.

The two women worked themselves into a strained conversation that would halt for a moment whenever Old Woman said something insulting or when Molly said something she could not relate to. But that was fine with Snuffles, because, on the floor, with his head in Neville's lap, he felt at ease.

One by one the children left, going to the kitchen or upstairs to their rooms. All of them felt uncomfortable, and none of them wanted to be around to see when or even if Old Woman finally remembered why she fainted in the first place.

Snuffles yawned, opening his mouth really wide, and felt Neville stiffen for a minute before he relaxed and started to rub his ears again. Nicenicenice he huffed out. His ears peeked up, when he heard the rain start to fall, but there was no other disturbance. He was just falling asleep when he heard what Old Woman said.

"We have to stay the night then, Neville." She turned to survey the house, and it was clear that it did not meet her standards, let alone her expectations of what a house should be. "If that is alright with you all, of course." Old Woman paused, and at not receiving any objections, she continued, "I also have some questions that must be answered."

"Stay the night?" Neville asked in a hopeful voice.

"Can't you hear the rain, son? There is no way I can see well enough to drive in this weather, and I don't want to use magic by any means, because then we will have to come back and get the car. All unnecessary steps, don't you think?"

"Yes Gran."

"Well that's fine," Molly said. "Neville can stay with one of the boys, and the couch is sturdy enough for you. If you want, I can get my husband to make it into a nice, little bed. You'll be comfortable."

"I see," Old Woman said dryly. "Now back to those questions I was talking about. I have a few, if you don't mind."

"Not at all," Molly answered with a pained smile.

"I have trouble getting my mind to catch on to things, after a fainting spell. But I do know that I came to get my grandson. I sent him here to purchase a dog. He was to be back home by noon." She paused, looking at them with a controlled expression, "He wasn't."

"N-no Gran," Neville spoke up, and Snuffles felt him trembling. He tensed, waiting to see what the boy would say. "I lost track…track of t-time. A-and then we...w-we had to get p-p-paperwork and stuff. And then I lost my money, but they are wizards, so they said any type of currency would be f-fine, and…"

"Neville, son, you're rambling. None of this would have lasted a whole day, would it? And you did not call."

"Well," Molly started, and by the look on her face Snuffles was sure that she was thinking hard. "Things got complicated. The dog he wanted was not available and we set up a force field in the back, because…one of the dogs had escaped…he helped us with that…but it cut off the other magic flow, such as the phone line…and then my husband's nephew came…Neville was so nice to him, really…and it was already late, so…he stayed the night. He said he could contact you in the morning."

"It's already midday," commented Old Woman.

"You came in the morning Gran," Neville said quickly.

"I did? Hmm, I guess I just lost track of time."

"Do you have any other questions, Mrs. Longbottom? Anything we can help you with to make sure you are more at home here?"

Old Woman ignored her. "My grandson is still wearing the same clothes he wore the day prier. I can see the newspaper sticking out of his back pocket." Neville blushed, "There is also mud all on him. And Neville, son, is that a tear on your jumper?"

"Yes Gran," he muttered.

"Something is not right here. Out of all the things you both have said, that has not been explained. Also, I'm sure that there are quite enough dogs here, so there would be no rush in picking one out, but he should have picked one sooner. I know that he would have. He would not have stayed. Neville hates being a bother..."

Old Woman leveled them with that look again, and Snuffles was reminded of a cat, even though she looked more like a big turkey. She was shifty and clever, and thought too highly of herself. And the way she spoke of Neville…

Neville began stroking him, hard and fast, around the neck and ears, and that's when he realized he was growling. Old Woman turned to face him. He barred his teeth.

"I do not like being lied to. I am old, not invalid or blind." She said sharply.

"That's it Gran!" Neville exclaimed suddenly. He got on his feet and Snuffles stood to rest his head against the boy's chest. "I wanted to s-surprise you! See, I wanted you to see my dog, before I took him home. I wanted you to approve."

"That dog is massive, I'm sure it would break all the china."

"N-n-no, that's not the-" Neville stuttered, as Molly began, "That's the family's-"

"Fine, fine if both of you insist. I can see there is no pleasing you any other way. I can see fit to be charitable to my family." She glanced at Molly, pulling up her big, overflowing bag to fish out her wallet, "How much is the beast?"

"Gran, please, I think you don't get what we're saying."

"You wanted this, not me. My, has your mind always been this fickle, or did you change when I was not looking?" She stood up, and hobbled over to the side table. After Old Woman downed the amber liquid she asked again, "How much is it?"

Molly tried a new approach, "Are you sure that a boy at Neville's age is mature enough to handle a dog this big? I should know, having a son his age. And your house, this dog can cause quite a lot of damage, as you could imagine. Maybe a smaller, older dog would be better."

Old Woman sat down again. "Our house is big enough to store it, and I'm sure the woods behind our lot would please it."

"Maybe, maybe not. I really think you should weigh your options, Mrs. Longbottom."

"Are you saying I am wrong, Mrs. Robinson? If your dogs are as bad as you say, maybe I ought to call an inspector, just to check up on your place." Old Woman paused. "Do you think I should ponder that option?"

"No," Molly said, her voice tired and cracked.

"Then we're taking him. You will never have to deal with this beast again."


	11. Chapter 10

Summary: (AU SB/NL) After purchasing a dog, Neville gets more than he expected: Sirius Black, in the flesh, sort of. Trouble is, Black's in hiding and he needs Neville's help and the only way he can switch back and forth from being man's best friend and world's worst criminal is with a kiss. Woops, sorry Neville.

Warnings: AU, book spoilers, mild cussing, Slash, and big age differences at the start. If this bothers you then don't continue reading.

A/N: The next chapter or so is the end of part one (this story will have three parts). So that'll give you an idea of how long this will last. I have the next two chapters typed up, so you won't have to wait too long for an update. (I just have to find where I saved them fist!) :)

DOGBREATH

CHAPTER TEN:

Hours Late

No one's life is perfect, no matter how much it may seem like it on the outside. Everyone faces the ups and downs that accompany their existence. Everyone goes through trials, everyone faces tough times. But some people feel that they have it harder, and some of them do. Most of them just like to complain. But Neville, as he shuffled to his grandmother's beaten up, mustard yellow minivan, felt that at this point he had unintentionally set it up to make Sirius' life one of the worst.

"I'm _so _sorry," he whispered to the dog as he made sure he was buckled in, which was a difficult task, because he was so large and because he was squirming around to check out his new surroundings. "I am, honest. I really, really, really am _so _sorry."

Sirius, or Snuffles, or whatever, just seemed happy. It reminded Neville of a baby's nature: so fragile and trusting, and naive. He was sniffing everywhere, cramming his big muzzle in between the seats and twisting to check out the seatbelt and armrest. He was ecstatic, if you judged his mood on the fast wagging of his fluffy tail. And he had no idea they were leaving his family, for good. Neville felt like the worst person ever.

"It won't be so bad," he promised, but it sounded lame to even his own ears. Snuffles panted, rolling out his tongue and snorted.

"Sometimes it seems like you can understand me," muttered Neville, as he pulled on his own seatbelt and watched as Gran pulled out the driveway.

Snuffles barked.

Neville turned to look outside the window, and saw the Robinson family all there, waving and calling. They must hate him. Ginny was crying, and the painful feeling in his gut increased. He looked at all their faces, memorizing each, and feeling sorry for all of them. There went all his friends, but he was also taking their dog. Neville wondered where Harry was.

"His name sounds familiar," he told Snuffles. The dog rolled his head, which was in Neville's lap, skyward.

Neville stroked the dog's head, playing with his ears and combing his fingers through his long hair. "Will you hate me too?"

"Neville, be a dear and turn the wind thing for me. That's a dear." Neville turned on the AC, leaning into the front, then scooted back again.

"What's with that frown-y face?" Gran snapped, she pushed up her glasses and made a slow, awkward right turn. "You have got everything you wanted, don't you?"

"Yeah," he said slowly, too busy watching the dog farm roll away in the background to pay attention. "We can go back, right? Snuffles might want to see them again."

"You've already named the beast? Not a very good choice, I think. Something along the lines of Butch would have been better. But not so conventional, that would be boring. Something majestic would be good, but not something magical. I wouldn't want to be dropping hints at our neighbors. I rather like the house we have, thank you very much."

Neville leaned his head on the glass, and halfway tuned Gran out. He hated himself more for that. It wasn't very nice. But he was feeling awfully sorry for himself at the moment, so he had an excuse.

He thought back to the night before, glad that he shared a bed with Harry again. It was fun, and it was like a sleepover of sorts. They had talked about their families a lot, and even though Harry had done most of the talking, it seemed like they connected. When Neville felt comfortable enough, he asked how the other boy had gotten those bruises on his face. Harry had shrugged, and muttered a quick, "I don't know."

But Snuffles had been in the other bed at the time, sleeping. The fact that his eyes weren't moving and twitching was a good sign that he was pretending. The dog usually fell deep asleep, chasing an invading foe in his dreams. But it had felt nice to have someone look after them, though, even if it was only a dog.

Neville remembered the look Harry flashed him, telling him without words that he would tell him why later. The bruises weren't that dark, but it intrigued Neville, so he wanted to know. And something about the way he talked to him didn't make Neville feel as uncomfortable as he usually would have been. He just wondered why Harry didn't want Sirius to know.

Later never came though. First thing in the morning Gran had called him down and insisted they leave, even before breakfast. Snuffles had waddled down shortly after, still half asleep and looking for the boys. The fact that he was taken away so quickly did not help Neville's bad mood at all.

He looked down at Snuffles, who had managed to escape the seatbelt's clutches and had slid down by his feet. How he was able to get himself squished into that tiny space, Neville didn't know. But because he was having a fun time sniffing and huffing all over Neville's shoelaces it made the boy smile a little.

"We'll make it work. We can call them, and write letters, and this town is so small it's a wonder that I haven't seen them before now. Don't worry Snuffles," Neville said, bending over to pat him on the head. "I will take care of you."

Snuffles wagged his tail harder, and pulled himself up so that his forearms rested on Neville's lap. Satisfied with his attention, Neville continued, "You can share my room, and I won't make you eat dog food, I promise. Gran won't care." He paused, scratching at his ears and looking straight into Snuffles' deep, blue eyes. "I won't let you get bored, I know you won't like it here, but I will try my best so you won't be totally miserable. I hate it when people are sad."

And looking into those eyes, Neville was almost positive that he could understand what he was saying. "I promise," he declared, still whispering, but now feeling sort of brave and confident.

Snuffles huffed, leaned closer and licked Neville's cheek.

Neville's grinned widened, before he said, "Thank you. I'm really glad you aren't mad at me."

This time Neville kissed him, right on the forehead. And at that moment he felt childish, so much younger than nine, but at the same time he felt more carefree than in a long while. Snuffles vibrated, wiggling and wagging in joy, before he licked at him, happy as well.

And, suddenly, it was Sirius in front of him. Not the shaggy, oil colored hell hound, but the man. Neville felt his mouth popping open again and he hissed out, without really meaning to, "I thought you didn't know how to control that?"

After he shot a panicked look in Gran's direction Sirius' eyes narrowed, and darted around, full and wide, before he seemed to make up his mind. He grabbed Neville by the collar of his shirt, hard, and pulled him down and smashed their lips together.

Neville, whose mouth was still open in shock, gasped loudly and caused their teeth to clink together. He jerked backwards, surprised and offended, because, really, who in their world would do that without asking? When he straightened himself up again, breathing fast and blinking, he was faced with the dog again.

"What just happened?" he asked, heart beating quickly.

"What, son?" Gran asked. She looked up from the front seat while checking him out from the rearview mirror.

"Nothing Gran!" Neville yelled, smoothing down his hair and glaring at Snuffles.

His mind worked fast, pulling together all the times that Sirius had changed, and then switched back to dog. It couldn't possibly have to do with him, could it? He looked back at his grandmother, and thanked his lucky stars that his Gran was halfway blind and deaf. He would never hear the end of it if she thought he was making out with dogs.


	12. Chapter 11

Summary: (AU SB/NL) After purchasing a dog, Neville gets more than he expected: Sirius Black, in the flesh, sort of. Trouble is, Black's in hiding and he needs Neville's help and the only way he can switch back and forth from being man's best friend and world's worst criminal is with a kiss. Woops, sorry Neville.

Warnings: AU, book spoilers, mild cussing, Slash, and big age differences at the start. If this bothers you then don't continue reading.

A/N: I'm sure I read in one of the books that Sirius did know that the Longbottoms were tortured. I think he heard about it in Azkaban, so, for my story, we will pretend that he didn't hear of it because he left earlier than in the books. It is an AU, after all.

DOGBREATH

CHAPTER ELEVEN:

On Your Toes

Time is really important. It's something you don't have a lot of, and once you use it, it passes, and it is gone before you even know it. And you can not get it back, not matter how much you want to. But here's the thing: if you spend your time worrying about it, it's time wasted. It's not worth it, and almost everyone knows it. Sometimes you can't help it though, so as Old Woman unlocked the front door with a wave of her bony hand, Snuffles snorted, rushing into the house without a second thought, thinking hurryhurryhurry and ohohohohohoh.

Snuffles turned, almost smacking into Neville as the boy ran to keep up with him. Panting and lifting his feet up and down in a sort of jig. He was worried, he was a mess, but he was elated.

He had gotten his memory back.

Now he could remember. He knew his name and his adopted family, he remembered his godson, Harry, and he could think back to a time where he had been a teenager in school with three of the best people in the world. He remembered their fatal destruction, and he remembered his mission. He was Sirius Black, a man with a cause, an animagus, and he lived to avenge.

As soon as Neville had shut the door to his bedroom behind Snuffles, had jumped up, trembling, and licked him straight in the face, hating the change more than he usually did. He stood up, fuming and trembling. He needed to get back.

"Shit…really of all the things that could go wrong!"

Neville took a deep breath, looking lost, "We're home. Well, we're at my house…"

"Christ," hissed Sirius, ranking his hands through his hair. "This is going to cause a lot of problems." He yanked his hands out of his hair and sat down lightly, crossing his legs at his ankles to slide down to the floor. He took a quick look at the room.

It was spacious, but the bed and dresser set took up most of the room. The walls were a white wash color, and they were empty, no posters or paints or anything to identify with. The place was spotless. There weren't even socks on the floor. And Sirius was willing to bet a great amount of gold that it was even clean under the bed.

"Oh."

Sirius took a look at Neville. He had a glum look on his face, and even though he was in his own room he was still acting like he was uncomfortable.

"Look, I'm sorry I exploded. It was a shock, you know?" Sirius tried to keep his voice down, willing it to be less harsh.

"No, I'm sorry. I should have left you there, with the Robinsons. I should have made an excuse or something. I'm not clever enough."

Sirius felt a smile tugging on the corner of his mouth, "Neville, you're just a kid. What could you have done?"

Neville sank to the floor, fisting his hands and digging them through the carpet. "I could have stood up to my grandmother. I could have told her that she was wrong for once. I could have convinced her that I wanted another pet, a frog or something, instead of a dog."

"And I could have eaten her shoes and dug through her ghastly purse and slobbered all over her, just to make her hate me," Sirius said, smile still held in place. "I overreacted, okay? It's not a big deal, mate. I can figure a way out of this. It's nothing to worry your little head about."

Neville's lips trembled, and Sirius wondered whether he was going to laugh or cry.

"I'll get out of your hair soon enough," Sirius continued, trying to reassure the boy. "You won't have to deal with me ever again."

Neville's face fell, and Sirius cussed softly, wondering what he had done now.

"Yeah…" Neville replied after a pause, licking his lips. "Yeah, Harry needs you now. I can understand. What can I do to help?"

Sirius laughed then, louder than he should have, making Neville jump. "Don't worry. I'm sure Old Woman can't hear us."

The boy frowned at him, straightening up and loosening his fingers. But at least he wasn't going to cry any time soon.

"I'm sure I can get back on my own. All I need to do is borrow your lips."

Neville blushed, crossed his arms over his chest and looked out the window. "Okay."

"Sounds like a plan," but Sirius started drumming his fingers anyway, still nervous and wound up. "Any chance Old Woman will come in?"

"No," Neville muttered, still looking away.

"And your folks?" Sirius questioned absent mindedly, already thinking of his plans to escape and reach his godson, and then thinking further into the future and wondering what rat blood tasted like. So he was not paying close enough attention to notice that Neville paled.

"No. I don't think they would bother you."

"Good," Sirius smiled, some of the frown lines melting off his face. "Thanks for helping so much."

"It's my fault anyway," Neville said, biting at his lower lip. "I should have left you all alone."

"No." Sirius said. His expression was contemplative. "You assisted Harry a lot, I'm sure. What he's been through lately has to be tough. I think you've done us some good, Neville."

"I'm glad," and then Neville smiled a wobbly smile, and suddenly Sirius felt better.

They waited until it was dark to talk again, because of Neville's chores ("You have to mow the lawn, really? That's crap.") and Old Woman's careful eye on Snuffles. When night came Neville snuggled up in his bed, Sirius under it, his hair peeking out a little, just in case Gran did walk in. Neville was just falling asleep when Sirius spoke up again.

"I think I could stay, for tonight at least. It wouldn't be wise to leave so early, Old Woman would be suspicious, don't you think? And it's calm here," he paused, breathing in deeply. "It's nice and quiet."

When he wiggled out from under the bed a minute later, he found Neville asleep, a tiny smile curved on his lips, and he suddenly felt better.

"I hate it when people are sad too," he whispered, remembering what was said that morning in the car, before retiring under the bed once again.

In the morning, he woke early, and at finding Neville asleep he knew he had to leave immediately.

"Thanks kid," he murmured, pushing the hair out of Neville's eyes affectionately, not worried that he would wake up. "Whenever you need help, just remember about Snuffles here, I'm sure a kid your age gets into lots of jams."

He smiled, and brushed his lips lightly against the sleeping figure's own and left through the open window into the dark, tail wagging.


End file.
